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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28309785">Christmas Invitation</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308'>Hekate1308</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Father Brown (2013)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:29:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,001</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28309785</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He hadn’t celebrated Christmas properly in years now. <br/>Father Brown Christmas story.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sid Carter/Inspector Sullivan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Christmas Invitation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Merry Christmas!!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He hadn’t celebrated Christmas properly in years now. His parents were long gone, and as he’d risen through the ranks, he’d mostly kept to himself – men with his… preferences simply didn’t have any other options if they didn’t want to be found out – and so had never had many friends.</p><p>And then they’d sent him to Kembleford, where the people he knew best were a meddling priest, a rather promiscuous member of the upper class, a curious old lady and a petty criminal (<em>Hah. Friend. As if – don’t think of him, don’t think of him, don’t think of him). </em></p><p>It was therefore hardly surprising that he was planning on spending these holidays by himself, as well.</p><p>Only to learn that in Kembleford, no one was forgotten over Christmas.</p><p>About a week before, Father Brown of all people knocked on his door. As far as he knew, there was no new case, but by now he couldn’t doubt what would follow, soe he braised himself for a story about how a handkerchief found at church would undoubtedly lead to a missing person or a crime ring, only to be utterly baffled when the priest simply came in and accepted his offer of tea, sitting down at his kitchen table and looking for all the world as if he had nowhere else to be for the rest of the afternoon.</p><p>They certainly weren’t in the habit of paying each other social calls. What was going on?</p><p>“As you have undoubtedly noticed, Inspector, Christmas is coming up.”</p><p>“Christmas” he managed to say. “Yes. Indeed.” He had already ensured that Sergeant Goodfellow and any of the other officers who happened to have families could have the holidays off – much easier here than in London, where one couldn’t expect a sudden abating of all crime-committing just because of the spirit of the season.</p><p>Then again, most of Kembleford’s small crimes were committed by a single individual (<em>don’t think of him)</em> and so that we probably to be expected, especially since he happened to be close to the local priest.</p><p>“The point is, we usually celebrate at St. Mary’s and then have a bit of a party at the vicarage. Lady Felicia and Mrs. McCarthy are already planning it.”</p><p>He highly doubted that what Mrs. McCarthy considered a fine party was the same kind of celebration that fit that moniker when Lady Felicia got involved – starting at the amount of champagne being consumed – and so wondered what sort of compromise they would reach when he continued, “You are invited too, of course.”</p><p>“Thank you, Father, but I’m really not the –“</p><p>He wasn’t quite certain what kind of excuse he’d find but he didn’t have to since Father Brown interrupted him with, “I assure you, there will be no attempts at conversion. As to spending the day alone, that simply will not do for our inspector.”</p><p>He asked himself if his predecessors had been forcibly exposed to holiday cheer as well. Most likely, knowing the father and Mrs. McCarthy. And even Lady Felicia could be rather stubborn when she set her mind to it.</p><p>There was one more trick up his sleeve, however. “I don’ think everyone would welcome my presence” he said as tactfully as possible – while he was trying to weasel his way out of it, and Father Brown could be incredibly annoying and subversive, there was little doubt in his mind that the invitation was, underneath it all, kindly meant and given. Loathe as he was to admit it, there was a reason the inhabitants of Kembleford loved their priest as much as they did.</p><p>“Oh, if you’re talking about Sid” (he very much had not been talking about Sid, for the simple reason that he avoided to do so as much as possible. He shouldn’t talk about Mr. Carter, and he most definitely shouldn’t be thinking about Mr. Carter. That could only lead to problems, and he didn’t want or need problems. There had been one or two close calls, back in his day – before he had once and for all forbidden himself any such nonsense; and so he was not talking about Mr. Carter. It was as easy as that) “You don’t have to worry. Mrs. M. always takes care that he behaves himself, this time of the year, and he can be quite pleasant company when he puts his mind to it.”</p><p>Now that we something he definitely hadn’t needed to hear, and he desperately hoped Farther Brown hadn’t noticed that he was feeling rather hot under his collar, all of a sudden. “I still think –“</p><p>“That’ll be all then, Inspector. I am very much looking forward to seeing you”. He emptied his cup and got up. “As are the others, no doubt.”</p><p>His shrewd eyes were peering at him through his glasses, and for a moment, he feared that he had actually guessed – but how? He was so very careful, and he certainly had not paid any undue attention to Mr. Carter, unless it was to arrest him – but Father Brown simply bid him goodbye and left.</p><p>Sullivan was left to pray for a crime spree that hopefully didn’t have anything to do with impossibly charming petty criminals.</p><hr/><p>The crime spree had never materialized. Oh, he’d tried looking for – anything, really, that could reasonably keep him occupied at this time; but there was simply nothing to warrant the presence of a detective inspector, no matter how hard he tried, and by now´, he was universally expected at the party. Even Goodfellow had told him “See you later, sir” as he’d gone home to prepare for the service at church.</p><p>He didn’t go – he had for obvious reasons soon lost his faith once he’d realized what he was – and he knew that Father Brown wouldn’t have expected him to do so, anyway.</p><p>He could claim he’d caught a cold, of course; Goodfellow would know better than to contradict him; but at the same time, it would have gelt rather childish to try and get out of it like this. He was after all a detective inspector, and the only one Kembleford had – as a matter of fact, he could easily understand why the querulous priest had invited him.</p><p>And so he put on his best suit, sighed, and made his way over to the vicarage.</p><p>It was easy to see at first glance that, when it came to the drinks, Lady Felicia had carried the day – that  much champagne could only come from one person – and as for the food, Mrs. McCarthy was undeniably responsible. It was probably better for all concerned that it was that way, and not the opposite.</p><p>Lady Felicia was the first to spy him – probably because she had already once managed to get to him join one of her evening soirees against his better judgement – and immediately swept in to greet him. “Inspector! How wonderful to see you!”</p><p>“Lady Felicia.”</p><p>“I should warn your, your absence at church was noticed.”</p><p>“I have no doubt.”</p><p>And in fact Mrs. McCarthy was rather glaring at him from behind the buffet, clearly feeling that as their highest-ranking police officer, he should at least manage to visit the service on holy days.</p><p>“You don’t have to worry; one or two glasses of sherry and she will have forgotten all about it. Usually works with me when I whish to sleep in on a Sunday.”</p><p>She winked at him in a way that suggested sleeping in didn’t always consist of simply that, and he felt himself grow hot again. “So you’re here alone, Inspector? No lady friend to accompany you?”</p><p>“Am – yes I am.” She had introduced him to several eligible girls at the soiree – and if his tastes had gone into that direction, he might even have been tempted since they had been as good company as they had been beautiful; but sadly there was nothing he could do about what he wanted –</p><p>“That’s too bad” a cheerful voice called out – a voice he had very much hoped not to hear yet, and indeed, to avoid the entire evening while repeating his mantra not to think of its owner. “I am certain there are enough girls in Kembleford who’d love to step out with a policeman. The uniform works, you know. I should know I wear none myself.”</p><p>Only that tonight he had chosen to wear a suit – and he looked quite handsome in it, too. His mouth was suddenly dry.</p><p>“Just a chauffeur’s uniform, Mr. Carter.”</p><p>“There’s nothing just about it, I assure you. I picked it out myself” Lady Felicia declared to no one’s surprise.</p><p>Now Father Brown joined the discussion because Sullivan couldn’t catch a break, not when it came to this evening at least. “Inspector, it is nice to see you here.”</p><p>“Oh yes, and as a matter of fact, I was about to introduce him to –“ and Lady Felicia indicated another young lady standing near her.</p><p>Panic rose in his throat. Not that he would mind a pleasant talk, but…</p><p>“I am sorry Lady Felicia, but the inspector doesn’t have anything to eat or drink yet, and we both know how Mrs M would say about that.”</p><p>Had he – had Father Brown just winked at him?</p><p>“You’re right of course, come on Inspector, it’s Christmas; let’s have a drink together.”</p><p>And then Carter was stirring him away.</p><p>He caught Lady Felicia’s eyes; they widened for just the fraction of a second, then she smiled an utterly too-knowing smile and he knew that she knew.</p><p>Furthermore, he was pretty certain that the catholic priest had figured out the truth about him. Good God, what was he going to do?</p><p>“You really look like you could use it” Carter suddenly said and pressed a glass of something into his hand that quickly turned out to be whiskey. So he had to look rather bad, if they were already starting on that. “Don’t worry, neither father Brown nor Lady Felicia are ones to tell tales –“</p><p>Carter knew as well? If he knew – that – had he guessed – could he tell – oh God –</p><p>It was at this moment that Mrs. McCarthy came baring down on him. “Inspector! You were missed at church!”</p><p>Carter thankfully had chosen that moment to disappear.</p><p>He lived through the lecture the good lady bestowed on him – how he was supposed to be a good example to the community and what an important date Christmas was, with the Saviour being born and so on – while nodding and occasionally humming, until, she had mercy on and all but forced him to have something to eat.</p><p>Well. It was better than –</p><p>“Ah, so Mrs. M let you off the hook, Sullivan?”</p><p>He swallowed down the strawberry tart and said, “until next year at least, Carter.”</p><p>“You never call me Sid” he suddenly said.</p><p>Sullivan didn’t meet his eyes. He was right, of course – and he had his reasons; but he’d be damned if he owed them.</p><p>“You could you know.”</p><p>Yes, he could; but what point would that have? It wasn’t like…</p><p>“And I don’t know your first name.”</p><p>“Is that so:”</p><p>“No one does. I asked around.”</p><p>Normally he would never have told him would have made some excuse and moved away; but then, Carter touched his arm and their eyes met and –</p><p>Oh.</p><p>No. Absolutely impossible. It couldn’t be.</p><p>And yet…</p><p>And yet.</p><p>“Thomas” he heard himself say. “Don’t use it much though – no very fond of it.”</p><p>“Tom” he said. “I like it.”</p><p>He certainly hadn’t given him permission to abbreviate his name.,</p><p>Carter – <em>Sid</em> grinned, looking rather like a little boy who’d gotten away with a practical joke. “Well then, Tom, fancy celebrating Christmas properly?”</p><p>It was as clear a proposition as he would get, and it was absolute madness, of course –</p><p>And he still followed Sid home that night.</p><p>There was, after all, a time for everyone to have a little faith; and was Christmas not as good a day as any to try?</p>
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